


Sacchrine

by ArabellaFaith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 02:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArabellaFaith/pseuds/ArabellaFaith
Summary: Lance falls into Zarkon's hands and is turned into a pleasure pet.  His body is altered, his will broken. Will he ever get a chance at the future he had always dreamed of with the men he loved?Warnings for rape/non-con, body modification, mental torture, sensory deprivation, pet play, unhealthy BDSM, gangbang, brief watersports, violence, and just about every other dark subject there is. Seriously.





	Sacchrine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaspurrlock (stilesstilerstyle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilerstyle/gifts).



> This story was inspired by the incredible art drawn by Jaspurrlock on Tumblr.

Lance woke slowly, his mind hazy and sluggish.  He remembered the mission… everything going wrong… being separated from the rest of the team…  _ captured _ .  His heart began to pound wildly until he remembered that everyone else had gotten away.  They had even managed to pilot the blue lion out of Zarkon’s hands.  Yes, he’d been captured, but the rest of the team had gotten away, Voltron was safe, and it was only a matter of time before either he escaped or the others came to rescue him.

 

As his mind slowly began to clear, he took stock of his body.  He felt… weird.  Hollowed out, sore but not in any outright pain, and  _ hungry _ .  His eyes blinked open and he saw that he was on an enormous, opulent bed.  His hands were tied behind his back.  And he was naked.  Being tied up didn’t disturb him.  It was an obstacle, sure, but it didn’t scare him.  His nudity did.  He’d heard Allura and Coran whispering once about the deviancy of Zarkon and his men.  He’d thought they must mean torture, the experiments that Zarkon liked the Druids to do… but what if their perversions were  _ sexual _ in nature?  

 

Lance shuddered.  Even if they were, it wasn’t as though there was much they could do to him.  Obviously, Zarkon wanted him alive.  Judging by the Galra’s sheer size, they wouldn’t be able to do anything sexual to him and expect him to live through it.  No, there had to be some other reason why he was naked.  Why he was on a bed.  Why his thighs were slick and his ass felt… _ different _ .

 

Horrified, he struggled out from under the blanket that had been tossed on him and looked down at himself.  He opened his mouth and tried to scream, but no sound came out.

 

His cock was small and limp, with unnatural ridges criss crossing it.  Six blue gems dotted the top of the shortened shaft, three on each side.  A cage.  Somehow, there was a cage on his cock,  _ under _ the skin.  The sapphires were the ends of barbells, holding the cage closed.  Lance’s vision swam.  He tasted bile in the back of his throat.  What had they done to him?  As if the alteration of his cock wasn’t enough, there was slick fluid trickling slowly down his thighs, its origins clear.  His ass was dripping like a hungry cunt.  His stomach heaved.  He tried to scream again.  No sound emerged.

 

The door opened.

 

“Ah, so my little pet has woken up.”  Zarkon smiled at him, teeth gleaming menacingly in the low light.  Lance jerked backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible.  He opened his mouth to curse, to demand answers, to try and scream again.  Still, no sound came forth.  Nothing, not even a groan.  Just the hiss of breath passing his lips.  “I see you’ve already discovered the first of the changes my Druids made to you.”

 

Lance fought to remain conscious.  Terror was stealing his thoughts, making his vision dim.  What had they done to his voice?

 

“You see, I have plans for you, Blue.  You’re going to be my personal plaything.  You and your  _ friends _ have made trouble for me at every turn.  I believe it’s time I had a little repayment for all that hassle.  And what better way to demoralize your pathetic team than by taking that payment out of your flesh?”

 

Lance’s skin crawled.  He shook his head mutely, still trying to back away, but he’d reached the wall.  He could go no further, not without trying to get past Zarkon and through the door behind him.  But he wasn’t sure if his legs would carry him.  Lance felt very small, and Zarkon seemed monstrously enormous standing over him.

 

“Unfortunately, your fragile little human body wouldn’t have survived a single round of punishment in my bed, so it had to be… altered.”  His teeth flashed again in a wolfish grin.  His arm snaked across the bed and he stroked one long, clawed finger down Lance’s throat.  “There wasn’t enough room in this lovely, wet orifice of yours for the entirety of my cock, so they removed the unnecessary parts.  After all, cock whores and cum dumps don’t need to  _ talk _ , they just need to  _ take it _ .”

 

His vocal cords.  They’d taken his voice.  The thing that most made him  _ him _ .  His ability to crack jokes, banter, make sarcastic jabs, flirt…  It was all gone forever.  Air escaped past his lips in what would have been a moan, had there been anything left to make the sound.  Tears dropped onto the sheets and he realized that he was crying openly, sobbing, and didn’t have the strength to even hate himself for that weakness.

 

“Your eyes are so bright when you cry,” Zarkon crooned, curling his finger beneath Lance’s chin and raising it.  “I’ll be sure to make that happen as often as I can.”  Lance tried to jerk away, but Zarkon gripped his throat and pulled him up as easily as lifting a doll.  He hummed in approval when his eyes landed on Lance’s cock.  “Such a work of beauty.”  He ran the tip of his claw over the ridges of the cage beneath Lance’s skin, stopping to rub his thumb over the gems when he reached them.  “So pretty.  You won’t be needing this any more as anything but an ornament, of course.  There’s no need for you to have a cock at all, but I didn’t want to remove it.  It’ll be so much more satisfying when you learn to come through just this caged little cocklet I’ve left you with.”

 

Lance twitched violently, the idea of having an orgasm at Zarkon’s hands utterly abhorrent to him.  His only comfort was that it wouldn’t happen.  He couldn’t enjoy anything that Zarkon did to him, and the way the Druids had mutilated his cock had made it almost physically impossible.  There was nothing Lance could do to stop Zarkon from trying, but he was sure that his body wouldn’t obey, no matter what Zarkon did.

 

“You seem to doubt me, pet.  You don’t think I’ll be able to make you come, my little Blue?  How wrong you are.  You’re going to learn to come on my cock, over and over again.  And you’ll come on the cocks of anyone I deign to share you with.  Or haven’t you noticed the other changes to your anatomy yet?”  He slipped his free hand between Lance’s legs and touched the slick there.  “You see, the part of you that I wanted most wouldn’t have been able to take my cock, either.  Well, not more than once, anyway.”  He smirked cruelly.  “And that would have been over for you much too quickly.  I don’t want to break my new toy.  I plan to keep you for a long,  _ long _ time.  So your little hole back here had to be made just a bit more accommodating.  Not enough that it won’t still hurt when I want it to, of course,” he dug his claws into Lance’s thigh until pinpricks of blood welled up, “but enough that I can have you as much as I want without killing you.  Doesn’t that sound fun?”

 

Zarkon removed his fingers from between Lance’s legs and shoved them into his mouth abruptly.  Lance barely had time to taste the salty-sweet slick before they pushed past his tongue and down his esophagus.  His throat spasmed in Zarkon’s grip, but he didn’t gag.  Zarkon hummed in approval, then pulled his fingers out of Lance’s throat and dropped him onto the bed.  He wiped the spit on Lance’s stomach and crawled over him.  Lance looked down between them and saw Zarkon’s cock, huge and glistening, throbbing in anticipation.  His eyes rolled in terror, but he couldn’t seem to move, to  _ fight _ .

 

“Oh, and there was one more major change, a special request that I’ll admit was difficult for even my Druids to accomplish.  I’d been informed that the nasty habit you humans have of voiding through this hole couldn’t be stopped unless you were starved, which would kill you before I’ve had my fill of you.  But from now on, this,” he shoved one thick finger into Lance’s ass, making him arch and scream silently, “is exclusively my cock sleeve.  So to accomplish this, your dietary needs have been altered.  You now subsist on nothing but  _ me. _ ”  He curled his finger until it pressed against something that made Lance jerk, like the wind had been knocked from him.  Zarkon chuckled.  “But not to worry.  I’ll be coming down this pretty throat of yours often enough to keep you full.” 

 

Another of Zarkon’s fingers pushed inside Lance along with the first.  It burned as he began scissoring them apart, stretching him mercilessly.  He cried silently, body twisting futilely under Zarkon’s seemingly limitless power.  There had been too many horrors in the last few minutes to fully process.  The loss of his voice, the desecration of his cock, the alteration of his ass to take Zarkon’s obscene size, and now he would never eat again.  He would survive on nothing but Zarkon’s come.  His mind had gone strangely quiet, unable to process it all.  Shock, he dimly realized.  He was in shock.

 

Zarkon withdrew his fingers from Lance’s ass and trailed them up his torso, stopping to thumb at the sapphire barbells Lance hadn’t realized had been put through his nipples.  It seemed such a small thing, compared to everything else that had been done to him.  His limbs felt too heavy, his skin numb.  His breath was coming in short, shallow pants.  He thought he might pass out.  He  _ wanted _ to pass out.  Zarkon was positioning his cock at the slippery opening of Lance’s ass, smiling wickedly.  But he didn’t pass out.  He remained horrifyingly conscious as Zarkon began to press forward in tormenting little thrusts, pushing the tip of his cock in just enough to stretch, to burn, to  _ hurt _ , then withdrawing.  Zarkon moaned, then chuckled darkly.

 

“So tight,” he whispered, nuzzling Lance’s exposed throat, dragging his fangs over the vulnerable veins.  “So perfect.”  He thrust forward again, harder this time.  The head of his cock popped inside, the delicate skin around Lance’s rim stretched nearly to tearing.  Lance arched off the bed with a silent scream of pain, the action sinking Zarkon’s cock further into his hole.  The slick that had been painting his thighs eased the way, but despite all the things that had been done to him, Lance’s body could still just barely fit Zarkon’s cock.  It felt grotesquely huge inside him, splitting him in two, over stuffing him until he thought he would vomit from the pain and the pressure.  And still there was more.  Zarkon growled and thrust hard, sending his cock balls deep into Lance’s ass.  Lance screamed again, the silence of it almost as horrific as the pain.

 

“There, now,” Zarkon breathed, his eyes dilated with lust.  “A perfect fit.  Made just for me.  I’m going to fuck you now, Blue.  I’m going to fuck you until Voltron is nothing but a distant memory.  Until you learn to come on my cock, until you beg for me to fill you up, until you’re the perfect little pet that I can pass around to every member of my court and you’re still gagging for more.”  He pulled back and thrust forward again, beginning a brutal rhythm.  “Then maybe I’ll find a way to breed you.  Turn you into a bitch in heat, mount you, fill you with my seed, groom our whelps into perfect soldiers for my empire.”  Each thrust drove the breath from Lance’s body, the ridge of Zarkon’s cock dragging against Lance’s prostate in a way that felt more nauseating that pleasurable, for which he could only be grateful.

 

“You want that, don’t you, Blue.  Want me to fuck you, to breed you, to fill you up.  This is all you are, what you were  _ made _ for.  To be a perfect fuck toy for me.  To take cock.”

 

Lance shook his head desperately, trying to convey the vehemence of his hatred for Zarkon, for what was being done to him, without words.  Zarkon only laughed, fucking him harder, driving Lance’s hips deep into the mattress.  His arms, still bound behind him, ached fiercely, but the pain was nothing compared to the agony of Zarkon’s cock stretching him.

 

“Maybe not yet, my little pet, but soon.  Soon you’ll be nothing more than a pliant little cum dump.  I’ll fuck the fire out of you, the  _ will _ .  I’ll break your spirit until you lap up my come like a kitten getting cream.  Are you ready for your first meal, Blue?  I’m going to fill you up.  Pump you so full of my come that it looks like I’ve already bred you full of my whelps.”

 

Zarkon’s cock seemed to swell impossibly larger, nearly blinding Lance with the pain.  Then he could feel it jerk and twitch inside of him, shooting out thick spurts of come.  It went on and on, more and more fluid building up in Lance’s gut, unable to escape past Zarkon’s still hard cock.  His stomach cramped, his insides full to bursting.  He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to  _ see _ , but then he did look, and his abdomen was bulged out obscenely, just like Zarkon had said it would be.  He looked like he remembered girls on earth looking when they were three or four months along, just beginning to show.  The thought that he could really be in that condition someday - with  _ Zarkon’s _ spawn - was sickening.  Could the Druids really make it possible for him to be bred?  He shook his head violently, trying to erase the horrifying possibility from his mind.

 

“Such a good little slut.  Look at you, stretched full of my come.  Breaking you in is going to be even more fun than I thought.”  Zarkon licked up the side of Lance’s face, tasting his tears, then pulled away.  His cock came out with a painful pop, and with it, a rush of warm fluid.  Lance’s face burned with shame.  “Mm, sometime soon I’m going to put a plug in you when I’m done fucking you, to keep my come in you for as long as I want.  You’ll be able to feel it slosh around inside of you any time you move.  But for now… lick up the mess you’ve made.”  He gestured to the puddle of cooling come between Lance’s legs.  Lance just stared at him, mortified by the very thought.  Zarkon snapped his fingers impatiently.  

 

Lance wanted to smash his fist through the bastard’s face.  He wanted to scream at him, to  _ destroy _ him.  But none of those were an option.  His hands were still securely bound behind his back and his voice was gone forever.  Lance was reminded yet again that he was very alone, and very vulnerable.

 

Still, he wasn’t a paladin of Voltron for nothing.  He snarled at Zarkon, twisting away from the mess and resolutely ignoring the stab of pain that went through him at the movement.  Zarkon growled at him, the sound a clear threat, but Lance just gave him the finger.  He thought the rudeness of the gesture might be lost on Zarkon, but his intent couldn’t be.  He might not be able to stop Zarkon from raping him, but he could refuse any act that required his participation.  No way in  _ hell _ was he going to lick up-

 

Zarkon’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of Lance’s neck in an iron grip.  He yanked Lance back and shoved his face into the slick mess.  It smeared all over his face, filling his nose until he had no choice but to open his mouth to try and breathe.  Zarkon ground Lance’s face further into the puddle, forcing some of the come and slick onto Lance’s tongue.  He bucked and twisted futilely, retching and coughing.  Zarkon kept him face down until Lance’s lungs were burning and his vision dimming.  When he finally let Lance up, he gasped in air, hardly even noticing the taste of ejaculate on his tongue.

 

Keeping Lance’s head still with one hand, Zarkon used the fingers of the other to scoop the slightly congealed slick off of Lance’s face.  Then he shoved his fingers in Lance’s mouth, pressing down until he swallowed.  When he finally pulled away, Lance was gagging and sputtering, but Zarkon was satisfied.

 

“If you won’t obey willingly, you’ll be  _ made _ to obey.  And I promise you, little pet, you won’t like my methods.”  Lance shook his head, not sure what he was denying any more.  Zarkon barely reacted to the insignificant show of defiance.  “Now, it’s been a long day, and I’m tired.  I’m going to introduce you to your new sleeping arrangements.”  He let Lance go, unheeding of the way he dropped back to the bed bonelessly.  There was a small panel on the wall that Zarkon pressed his first three fingers to, and then a square door opened.  Inside was an empty vault, three feet wide by three feet deep.  “This is where you’ll be put when you’ve displeased me.  There is absolutely no light, and very little air.  You won’t be able to move, and there’s no way out unless I  _ let _ you out.  I’ve been told that you can go nearly two weeks without my come before you die from malnourishment.  I have no problem with leaving you in here all but a moment short of your death, should you displease me enough.”  He closed the door with a clang, leaving Lance shuddering at the thought.  Next, he pulled a set of thin black chains from beneath a corner of the bed.  They were attached to one of the massive pillars at the foot of the mattress.

 

“If you haven’t done anything deserving of punishment but I’m done with you for the night, you’ll be chained here, sleeping like a dog at the foot of my bed for when I want you again.”  He dropped the chains negligently, then picked up a strip of blue leather with a silver ring through it.  “And this is how you’ll spend most nights.”  In a lightning fast movement, he was back on the bed, pinning Lance down.  Lance opened his mouth to yell automatically, his mind still not quite grasping that it would be useless, and Zarkon took the opportunity to push the ring behind Lance’s teeth.  In another moment, the leather was buckled around his head.  He couldn’t close his mouth, and he couldn’t spit the ring out.  His jaws were stretched almost painfully wide, but what worried him most wasn’t the ache.  It was the matching ring he saw at the base of Zarkon’s still glistening cock.

 

Zarkon didn’t give him time to wonder if the awful assumption he’d made was true.  He forced Lance’s head down to his lap, threading his cock through the silver ring.  In one quick shove, he pushed the entire length of his cock down Lance’s throat.  The rings clicked together and held.  Zarkon moaned and rolled to his side, dragging Lance helplessly along with him.  The taste of come and salty-sweet slick once again filled his mouth, and he couldn’t even swallow to try and wash it away.  His tongue was pinned down under the thickness of Zarkon’s cock, drool trickling slowly down his chin.  He thought he would choke, but after a moment, he realized that he could take shallow breaths through his nose.  This throat felt painfully full, he was horrifically stretched, his body ached and burned, but he could breathe.  He was still alive.  He fought back the sobs that threatened to overtake him and reminded himself that this was temporary.  He could take whatever torment Zarkon dealt him, because he would get free.  His team would come for him, and he would  _ kill _ Zarkon.  And then… then he would find some way to deal with the irreparable things that had been done to him.  But first, he needed to survive.

 

***

 

The feeling of Zarkon’s cock swelling woke Lance.  It had taken him a long time to fall asleep, awkwardly fixed to Zarkon’s groin, Zarkon of course giving no regard for Lance’s comfort.  But he’d finally gotten somewhat used to the thick length of cock in his throat and the crick in his neck and the painful stretch in his shoulders with his arms still tied behind his back, and had drifted off.

 

Now, it felt as though his throat was going to burst apart.  Zarkon had only been half hard when he’d attached them together.  At his full size, he overfilled Lance’s throat almost to the point of agony.  He struggled, knowing it was useless but unable to stop himself.  After a few moments, Zarkon roused.  He yawned and stretched, dragging Lance along with him as he flipped to his back.

 

“No better way to wake up than to a throat gripping your cock,” he murmured smugly.  Lance could do no more than glare at him, knowing the tears falling from his eyes ruined the ferocity of the look.  “How about a little breakfast?”  With a click, he separated the rings.  Lance started to jerk back, but Zarkon caught the back of his head and forced him forward again.  He wrapped his hands around Lance’s head and moved it roughly, fucking Lance’s throat.  Tears fell freely down his face, snot and drool collecting under his chin, but he could do nothing but let Zarkon have his way.  His struggles went totally unnoticed.  He was Zarkon’s to do with as he pleased.  The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

 

With one final, brutal shove, Zarkon came down his throat, pumping Lance’s stomach full of come, then brushed him aside and rose.  “Now, I have a lot to do today, and don’t have the time to properly introduce you to my court.  Instead, you’re going to stay here and think about ways to please me.”

 

Lance rubbed his face brusquely against the sheets to wipe it clean and then snarled at Zarkon.  Like hell was he going to think about how to  _ please _ Zarkon.  How to  _ murder _ him, yes.  But not anything that would bring the bastard pleasure.  Zarkon narrowed his eyes.  “I put up with your pathetic little shows of defiance last night because they amused me.  But my patience is running thin, pet.  You are mine, nothing more than a toy for my pleasure, mine to use and discard however I see fit.  The sooner you accept that, the better.  No one is coming to save you, and escape is impossible.  You are  _ mine _ ,” he repeated savagely.  “And I expect you to act like it.”

 

Lance shook his head violently.  His stomach was still swollen with the evidence of Zarkon’s claim, but he refused to accept it.  He belonged to no one, least of all Zarkon.  And his team would come for him.

 

Furious, Zarkon lifted Lance by his throat and shook him.  “Then I’ll leave you to reflect upon your position for a while.”  He opened the vault and shoved Lance inside.  With one final look at Zarkon’s sneering face, Lance was thrust into absolute darkness.

 

It was silent, not even muffled sounds reaching Lance’s straining ears.  He was coiled up with his knees to his chest, his swollen stomach painfully cramped, unable to move more than an inch any direction.  It was hard to breathe, the air already growing stale with his panting breaths.  Still, it was better than being out there, in Zarkon’s hands.  If that bastard thought the confinement would be a punishment, he was wrong.  He’d rather be smothered and cramped up, unable to see or hear, than stuffed full of Zarkon’s cock.

 

His gladness lasted for a day.  A day of fantasizing about escape plans, of being rescued.  A day of pretending not to notice how the fullness of Zarkon’s come in his belly satiated his hunger.  A day of trying to forget that even if he tried to scream for help, he wasn’t capable of making a sound.

 

And then the walls started to close in on him.  He thought about being back in the castle, surrounded by his team.  But he couldn’t flirt harmlessly with Allura ever again.  He’d never be able to joke with Pidge or complement Hunk’s cooking.  He’d never be able to  _ eat _ again.  And Shiro…  He would never be able to admit to Shiro how he felt about him.  Could never explain his confusion over being attracted to him and Keith both.  Could never use his rivalry with Keith to create sexual tension between them again.

 

Any hopes he’d once harbored about romance, no matter how confused and convoluted, were dead.  Even if he was rescued.  Even if one day he managed to figure out what, exactly, he wanted.  Even if he found a way to convey it to Shiro, or Keith, or  _ both _ .  It wouldn’t change the fact that he’d lost his virginity being raped by Zarkon.  That his entire body was now engineered to take Galra cock.  That he was irreparably damaged, inside and out.

 

He thought at one point, bitterly, that it was a good thing he was already gay, because what was left of his cock would never be able to satisfy a woman, anyways.  And then he cried.  He’d never considered himself an overly sexual being, for all his flirting.  Still, he’d always enjoyed the times he’d taken himself in hand, stroking the length of his cock slowly.  He’d been perhaps a little thinner than average, but long and nicely curved.  He’d always shuddered at the decadent way the head of his cock felt when he stroked it with his thumb while it was engorged.  He’d been deliciously sensitive, easy to climax and easy to get hard again.

 

But that had been destroyed forever by the cage implanted just below his skin.  His cock would never be able to get up, could never lengthen and bob towards his stomach.  He’d never sink it into tight, welcoming heat.  Any hopes he’d had for the future were gone.

 

Time seemed to stretch differently in the vault.  Even when he counted out the seconds, minutes seemed longer than was physically possible.  It was impossible to keep track of how long he’d been in absolute darkness.  In silence.  Cramped and alone.  Sometimes he drifted into uneasy sleep, plagued by either nightmares of Zarkon’s unwelcome advances, or dreams of rescue that always broke his heart upon waking.  

 

He had silent conversations with himself, repeated over and over all the things he’d say to Zarkon if he could.  Of the words he’d use to explain what had been done to  him to the rest of the team when he escaped.  When the darkness pressed in on him to the point of panic, he sang in his mind, lullabies his gran had sung him as a child.

 

When the hunger returned, he distracted himself from it by focusing on his hatred of Zarkon.  This was his fault.  He’d done this to Lance, desecrated his body, turned him into this abomination.  But that only lasted him so long when hunger turned into starvation.  He hallucinated.  He had wild fantasies where his body was magically restored, his voice returned to him.  He saw his team members.  He saw monsters.  He saw Zarkon, offering him sustenance, if only Lance would willingly suck his cock.

 

Even in delirium, at first he rejected the idea.  He swore he would rather die.  But starvation was no quick death, and the pain never receded.  He thought, if Zarkon forced him, fucked his throat like he had that first time, then Lance would be absolved of all guilt for needing it.  Then, as time went on, he bargained with himself.  His goal was to survive this.  To do whatever he needed to get out alive.  If that meant swallowing Zarkon’s come, then so be it.

 

Eventually, he resigned himself to begging.  He would beg to suck Zarkon’s cock like a whore.  He would beg for Zarkon to fuck him, to fill him up, to use him as a cum dump.  If only it would make the hunger go away.  He would be good.  He would jump at the chance to lick up the mess when Zarkon fucked his ass again.  He would be the perfect little slut, if only Zarkon would let him out.

 

He silently sobbed and begged for the  _ chance _ to beg him.

 

And then, when he thought he would go mad from the seclusion and the claustrophobia and the hunger, the vault door opened.  Lance was blinded by the sudden light, though later he would realize it was only a dim filtering of shadows.  He cried with relief when Zarkon lifted him out.  His limbs wouldn’t function properly.  He hung, limp, helpless, as Zarkon held him.

 

It took several moments to realize that Zarkon was talking to him, that there were murmured words amid the sudden cacophony of sounds assaulting his ears.

 

“There now, Blue.  Look at you, beautifully pliant.  You must be hungry, my little pet.  Don’t worry, I’ve forgiven you for your defiance.  I’ll feed you now.”

 

Lance sobbed in relief.  He cared about nothing, not rescue, not revenge, not the fate of the universe, nothing but satiating the hunger that consumed him.  He did nothing but lay there limply and cry when Zarkon put him face down on the bed and mounted him.  Dried slick flaked off his thighs as new liquid gushed over the top of it, his body eagerly easing Zarkon’s way.

 

The pain was almost an afterthought.  Finally, finally, there was something other than gnawing hunger filling Lance.  He didn’t care that Zarkon’s cock stretched him nearly to splitting.  He let the burning engulf him, not even trying to fight it.

 

When Zarkon began to come, pumping him full, Lance felt something disturbingly like pleasure.  It wasn’t the same as having his stomach full, but his body was still getting the nutrition it so desperately needed.  If Zarkon had asked him to, Lance would have thanked him for it.

 

After the last wet pulse of his orgasm, Zarkon pulled out.  Lance felt come and slick ooze out of him.  He  _ wanted _ to lick up the mess.  He hoped Zarkon would shove his face in it.  Something that would have been a whimper left his lips in a silent rush of breath.

 

“Mm, your ass was even better the second time, Blue.”  He rolled Lance over.  “So pretty.  You’d like the chance to lick up my come now, wouldn’t you, Blue?”  He didn’t give Lance the opportunity to agree or deny.  Instead, he cradled the back of Lance’s head in one huge, claw tipped hand, and brought it towards his cock.  “For now, clean me up.  I’m covered in your slick.  You’re disgusting.”  His voice went from soft, soothing, to a hateful snarl.  “You should be grateful that I deign to fuck you.  You’re repulsively fragile.  So needy.  Just a desperate little cock whore.  Clean up your mess.”

 

Lance opened his mouth willingly and let Zarkon’s cock slide down his throat.  “Suck it, filthy little slut.  Use your throat as my own personal cock sleeve.”  Despite just having come, Zarkon’s cock began to harden again.  Lance didn’t fight it the way he had before.  If Zarkon came again, his stomach would finally be full.  He tried to swallow, causing his throat to tighten around Zarkon’s girth.  Zarkon moaned.

 

“Lovely.  Just like that.  What a good little pet you can be.  I’ll give you my come as a reward, Blue.  See how generous I am?  Such a good boy.  There now, take it.”

 

Lance felt something brittle inside himself soften at the praise, even while knowing somewhere distantly that it was so wrong.  He felt Zarkon’s cock begin to jerk, felt spurts of come filling his belly.  He welcomed it.

 

Finally, Zarkon pulled out, leaving a string of spit and come to dribble down Lance’s chin.  “Look at you,” Zarkon breathed, splaying his hand on Lance’s swollen belly.  “Pumped full of two of my loads.  Such a good slut, taking my come like that.  My good little slut.  Aren’t you, Blue.”

 

It wasn’t really a question, but still, Zarkon waited for a response.  Lance was frozen with relief and shame.  He hated himself more than he’d ever thought possible.  He’d let Zarkon fuck him, had willingly sucked his cock, had been  _ grateful _ for his come.  He felt inhuman.  As if he no longer deserved the title.  

 

“Agree, Blue,” Zarkon demanded, his voice taking on an angry edge again.  “Or I’ll lock you in the vault for  _ another _ fortnight.”  Lance felt himself pale.  He couldn’t go back there.  Not for that long.  Not like that.  He’d go mad.  “I thought so.  Now, are you my good little slut?”

 

Lance nodded.

 

***

 

He spent that night chained at the foot of Zarkon’s bed.  He slept, peacefully, for the first time since he’d been captured.  And he was grateful.  In the morning, Zarkon put the ring gag in his mouth and pissed on Lance’s upturned face.  The threat of the vault kept Lance still and plaint, made him swallow when Zarkon ordered him to.  He spent the day chained to Zarkon’s bed, and was still grateful.

 

At times, Lance remembered who he was.  He remembered that he had a life out of these walls, that he was a human being with thoughts and feelings.  That he’d dedicated his life to stopping Zarkon.  And in those moments of wild bravado, he rebelled.  Once, he tried to bite Zarkon’s cock while it was shoved in his mouth.

 

Zarkon put him in the vault for what he later said was six days.  When he came out, Lance was nothing more than a pliant sex toy.  He sucked Zarkon’s cock eagerly.  He’d thought it would be two weeks again.  He was grateful for Zarkon’s mercy.

 

***

 

When Zarkon took him out of his bedroom for the first time, Lance was starkly aware of his nudity.  He hadn’t worn clothes since his capture, but somehow, he’d adjusted to being naked in Zarkon’s presence.  Walking down the hall, attached to Zarkon by a leash, Lance was suddenly mortified.  The soldiers that passed them in the hall oogled him.  His hands were tied behind his back, like they had been his entire time in Zarkon’s care, and he realized how vulnerable it made him.  He couldn’t fight anyone off.  He found himself edging closer to Zarkon, as if for protection.

 

Zarkon smirked.  He had Lance kneel at his feet as he sat in his throne, hearing reports from his men.  When they were gone, he fucked Lance over the opulent seat, telling him what a good boy he’d been.

 

The next day, he had Lance ride him on the throne.  He asked Lance if he should hail the castle, let the rest of Voltron see the blue paladin taking his cock like a whore.  Lance had lept off him and run from the room, headbutting a startled guard to get past.  His foolhardy escape attempt lasted only half a minute longer, before he was dragged back to Zarkon.

 

That was the first time he gave Lance to the guards.  Somehow, despite all the horrors Zarkon had inflicted upon him, Lance hadn’t thought Zarkon would ever  _ share _ him.  He’d been wrong.

 

“I’ll show you what happens to ungrateful little sluts who forget their place,” he hissed, backhanding Lance furiously.  Lance collapsed on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.  Running from Zarkon had been a foolish, useless thing to do.  But the idea of his friends seeing him like this, mutilated, broken, taking Zarkon’s cock eagerly like a come hungry slut, seemed like a fate worse than death.

 

He screamed silently as the guards that Zarkon had summoned filed into the room and pinned him down.  They leered at him.  A few bold ones plucked at the piercings in his nipples.  Lance looked over to Zarkon, his eyes pleading for reprieve.  None was forthcoming.

 

“I believe you owe this guard of mine an apology, Blue.  Your little stunt split his lip.  What better way to beg his forgiveness than by letting him fuck you?”  He waved the soldier forward.  “Go ahead.  Have him.  Teach him his place.”

 

The guard needed no further prompting.  He dropped to his knees and sunk his cock into Lance’s ass in one hard thrust.  Lance writhed, pain and mortification crawling along his skin like maggots.  He barely noticed Zarkon throwing the ring gag to the guard holding down his shoulders.  His mouth was still open in his silent scream when the ring was shoved in his mouth.  A cock slid down his throat almost immediately, the musky flavor of it dragged across his tongue with every thrust.

 

When the guard fucking his face came, another took his place.  Then another.  And another.  They took turns with him, always one in each of his holes, the seemingly endless line of soldiers eager to have a taste of Zarkon’s pet.  They spanked his ass, drug their claws over his skin, spit on him, slapped him, called him every degrading name Lance had ever heard and a few he hadn’t.

 

He couldn’t deny a single one of them.  He was exactly what they said.  A worthless slave.  Cum bucket.  Sex toy.  Cock whore.  Piece of trash.  Only good for taking cock.  It was all true.  He was being passed around like a cheap rag.  Disposable.  Filthy.

 

He sank into the truth of it.  Let his body go.  Embraced the pain, the feeling of being so utterly used.  It wasn’t shameful because this was all he was good for.  He was serving his purpose by taking Galra cocks.  He’d displeased his master and lost the right to be his exclusive pet.  Now, he was nothing more than the empire’s whore, expected to spread his legs and open his lips to anyone loyal to Zarkon.

 

He had no idea how long it lasted for.  It seemed eternal.  A never-ending line of faceless beings thrusting into him roughly.  But eventually, it stopped.  He laid motionless in a puddle of various bodily fluids, dazed and sick, every cell in his body crying out in pain.  Then there were gentle hands lifting him.  He was cradled against a strong, broad chest.  Soft words were whispered in his ear, words he didn’t even begin to try and comprehend, but that he took comfort in nonetheless.

 

Zarkon washed him slowly, carefully.  He removed all trace of ejaculate from Lance’s body, even going to far as to scoop come out of Lance’s ass with his fingers.  All the while he kept up his stream of whispered words.  Telling Lance how filthy he was, how worthless, crooning gently in his ear what a privilege it was that a slut like him got to have Zarkon’s cock.  Telling him softly, sweetly, that if he ever disrespected Zarkon like that again, he would have Lance’s eyes removed to give his men two more holes to fuck.

 

He cradled Lance in his arms when he was dry, making Lance feel secure and  _ wanted _ .  When he slid his cock into Lance’s ass, it was with a tenderness that made Lance want to cry.  His ass had been rubbed raw, his body over filled and wrung out, but he didn’t dare try to fight Zarkon off.  He let himself be had, one last time for the night, by the one who owned him.

 

***

 

Lance spent the next three days chained to Zarkon’s bed.  Zarkon didn’t touch him.  Not to stroke him, not to fuck him, not even to hit him.  It was like he wasn’t even there.  It ate at him.

 

Then, on the fourth night, Zarkon unchained him and spread him out on the bed.  Lance was eager for any kind of attention, any scraps that Zarkon would give him.  He was shocked when Zarkon’s lips skated across his chest, capturing Lance’s nipples one after the other, tongue flicking the sapphires.  It felt… good.  Amazing, actually.  His cock twitched with interest.

 

It was the first time he’d felt anything even close to sexual arousal since his capture.  As he gasped and squirmed, he could feel his cock twitch again, sluggishly trying to rise.  The cage prevented it, making him ache as it was squeezed internally.  Something like panic bubbled up inside him.  He didn’t want this.  Didn’t want anything Zarkon did to feel  _ good _ .

 

He was relieved when Zarkon’s cock nudged against his ass.  This he understood.  This he was familiar with.  The burn of it helped ground him, made the stunted swelling in his prick dissipate.  But Zarkon didn’t just drive into him viciously like normal.  He took his time, moving slowly, his hips angled up as if looking for something-

 

Lance’s whole body jerked as the head of Zarkon’s cock massaged his prostate.  Not the nauseating jabs or ineffective rubbing that happened when Zarkon usually fucked him, but practiced, purposeful movements.  Zarkon was plying his body like an instrument, drawing him out.  Pleasure rolled through him in waves, sickening and warm.  His cock once more tried to swell.

 

Though impeded by the cage, it still grew turgid, standing out from his pelvis two inches.  The stones dotting the top of it glittered in the light, twinkling with Zarkon’s every thrust.  Pleasure continued to coil within him insidiously, the need to come rising with increasing urgency.  How was it possible?  How could he be enjoying this?  How could be be taken right to the edge of orgasm by Zarkon fucking him?  How would be be able to come, with his cock stunted as it was?  He shuddered, wishing it would stop, all the while praying it would never end.

 

Three thrusts later, thin white ejaculate spurted into the air and landed on his chest.  Lance was stunned, even as the pleasure continued to wrack him.  Zarkon growled in satisfaction and slammed deep, letting his own pleasure take hold.

 

Zarkon kissed his eyelids and told Lance what a good boy he was.  How proud Zarkon was of him for coming untouched, his little cocklet nothing more than a pretty ornament between them.  Then he put the ring gag in Lance’s mouth, attached it to his cock for Lance to keep warm through the night, and stroked Lance’s hair until he fell asleep.

 

***

 

Eventually, the shame and panic that Lance felt when Zarkon brought him pleasure faded.  His cock was almost always in its small, semi-hard state, the sapphires studding it catching the light as it bobbed.  Zarkon could make him orgasm easily when he wanted, and he could just as easily use orgasm denial as a punishment.

 

Once, Zarkon didn’t let Lance come until he could suck off one of the guards in under a minute.  After a week, Lance had been desperate, doing anything he could to please them, to get them off quickly.  Finally he’d gotten lucky with a young guard who was just back from a long mission where his sexual options had been few.  Lance had cried in relief when Zarkon thrust a finger into him over and over until he came on the floor, still kneeling before the guard whose ejaculate painted his face.

 

Zarkon never touched his cock to bring him pleasure.  He played with it at times, thumbing the sapphires, rolling the skin over the bars of the cage, admiring its craftsmanship.  But he never allowed Lance to come from stimulating it.  “Remember that this is nothing but a useless stump, Blue,” Zarkon told him.  “Any pleasure you get will be from a cock fucking you.”  And he made sure that was true.

 

***

 

Any time Zarkon had to meet with his generals, with other leaders, with esteemed guests, he did it in the throne room with Lance kneeling at his feet.  He liked for them to admire his pet.  Whenever the opportunity arose, he whipped or choked Lance until he cried, just to show off how pretty his eyes were when wet.

 

He often had Lance pleasure his generals with his mouth to reward them.  Lance would have to crawl to the lucky soldier on his knees and let them fuck his throat until they were satisfied.  When they were back in bed for the night, Zarkon would beat Lance for having another man’s come in his stomach.  Lance would burn with shame, but still wouldn’t dare try and refuse the next time Zarkon ordered him to take another cock.

 

More than once, he was used as a political bargaining chip.  Zarkon offered a night with Lance to his allies, sweetening the deal when alliances were made.  When negotiations were over, he would hand Lance off to whoever he’d made his agreement with, smirking at the way Lance’s lip trembled, but he didn’t dare object.

 

Lance would let them use him in whatever way their anatomy dictated, then be returned to Zarkon in the morning.  Zarkon would ignore him all day, then spend the night alternating between telling Lance what a worthless whore he was and praising him for his obedience.  Lance could only cry and silently beg forgiveness.

 

Blue was Zarkon’s most cherished possession.  A perfect, docile pet.  A former paladin of Voltron, broken for his own personal use.  Debased, debauched, objectified and owned.  Life narrowed down to a series of actions for Lance.  There was no future, there was no past.  There was only serving Zarkon, doing whatever and whoever he ordered.  Everything else was lost, sacrificed to survival and escaping the shame.

 

There was no point of escape.  No one was coming for him.

 

Until they did.

 

***

2

***

 

The rescue was quicker than Lance thought should have been possible.  One moment he’d been kneeling at Zarkon’s feet, his master’s jewel, getting ready to crawl over to the returning general and suck his cock as a reward for his success.  The next moment he saw Shiro’s agonized face beneath the hood of the soldier behind the general.  And all hell had broken loose.

 

Ten minutes later, Lance was in the black lion, flying to safety.  The cloak Shiro had been wearing as a disguise was over him, and it felt almost unbearably heavy.  Unnatural.  As Shiro piloted them away through heavy fire, Lance didn’t know what to do with himself.  He knelt uncertainly at Shiro’s feet, the person he’d been before struggling vainly to rise to the surface.

 

But that Lance had been able to speak, to eat.  Had been more than just a hole to fill.  He was no longer that person.  There weren’t enough parts of him left to become that any longer.

 

When they’d finally gotten away, Shiro had tried to talk to him, and the rest of the team, through the coms, had spoken, but Lance struggled to understand any of it.  Everything felt like a dream.  Like one of the many fantasies that had plagued him those first weeks.  He wanted to wake up.  He wanted to feel the weight of Zarkon’s hand on his throat, or the burn of his cock in Lance’s ass, the things he’d become familiar with.  Things that were real and inescapable.

 

Eventually, Shiro had given up.  They’d flown in silence back to the castle, and then Lance had been handed over to Coran for healing.  He didn’t struggle when they put him in the pod, couldn’t understand the look of horror on Coran’s face when he saw Lance’s naked body for the first time.  He was beautiful, after all.  A pretty little pet decorated in sapphires.  This was how cock whores were supposed to look.

 

Then the tank closed, and Lance knew no more.

 

***

 

Lance woke slowly, one sense at a time.  His ears picked up muffled voices, so he knew he wasn’t in the vault, which sent relief skittering down his spine.

 

The second thing he noticed was the conspicuous absence of pain.  There was none, not even the dull ache that had never fully left his ass since the first time Zarkon had fucked him.  He felt… good.  His body swayed forward and he almost crashed into the front of the healing pod.  It was as though there was too much weight in front of him, his balance was off.  And then he realized it was because his arms were free.

 

He thought he was going to choke on his next breath.  He raised his hands up and turned them over, staring at them as if they were strangers.  They practically were.  He hadn’t been able to use them since his capture.  But now he had them back.  He closed his hands into fists and squeezed, then swung his arms.  He pressed his palms against the glass, and it suddenly opened before him.

 

The voices became clearer.  Coran, Lance realized.  Sounding more grim than Lance had ever heard him.

 

“-is permanent.  I’ve no idea how they accomplished it.  The whole system has been altered.”

 

“At the very least we need to get that…  _ cage _ off of him!”  Keith sounded so disgusted that Lance felt shame color his cheeks.

 

“It’s embedded in his skin.  We could try to cut it out, but I’m not sure even that would restore it back to the way it was.”

 

“We aren’t cutting  _ anything _ without his consent.”  Shiro was adamant.  Lance let the sound of his voice, steady, warm, strong, wash over him.  “When he wakes up, we can discuss options, as limited as they are.  But no one is doing anything to him without getting his express permission first.  He’s had more than enough of that.”

 

“It’s not  _ doing _ anything to him,” Keith objected.  “It’s  _ un _ doing what that monster-”

 

“Guys!”  Hunk’s interrupted Keith, his eyes glued to Lance, wide and sorrowful.  The rest of the group turned as one.  For a single, mortifying moment, they just stared.  Lance knew what he looked like.  Sapphires dotting his nipples, scars on his thighs, his shortened, caged cock decorated with gems that glinted in the light.  He looked like a King’s whore.  Exactly what he was.

 

Allura was at his side in an instant, a robe in her hand that she somehow wrapped around Lance without touching him.  Did she not want to touch him, Lance wondered?  Did he repulse her?  Could she somehow  _ see _ that every inch of his skin had been bathed in Zarkon’s come?

 

Or maybe, some almost forgotten part of his mind supplied, maybe she just didn’t want to touch him until she knew he would be okay with it.  Maybe she understood that he’d been hurt, and didn’t want to take liberties, even such a small one.

 

“ _ Lance _ -”  The way Shiro breathed his name made something inside Lance ache.  Pain and grief and longing… or was he imagining the longing?

 

“We know you can’t speak,” Coran cut in when he realized that Shiro couldn’t find any more words to say.  “I’ve been going over your medical report, and we have a lot to discuss.  First, though, let’s get you properly dressed.”

 

Pidge stepped forward, holding out a bundle of clothes to him.  Jeans, his t shirt, even his jacket.  Socks and shoes.  He hadn’t been allowed to wear-  No, he pushed the thought away.  He wasn’t there any more.  He could put on a hundred pairs of socks if he wanted.  He never had to let anyone look at his naked, mutilated body again.

 

He dressed behind the partition, marveling at how strange it felt to be putting on clothes.  His own clothes.  Surrounded by his team, his friends.  To be able to use his arms.  He still couldn’t speak, no, but for the first time in who-knew-how-long, there wasn’t come trickling out of his ass.  That was something to be grateful for.

 

When he was dressed, he found the rest of the team sitting at a table waiting for him.  Lance looked at the spot on the floor by Shiro’s feet, wondering for a moment if he should kneel there.  But no.  Shiro was the head of the team, not his master.  Lance belonged to no one.  He sat at the empty chair, feeling awkward and out of place.

 

“Lance.” Allura’s soft voice set him at ease.  “Would you like some of us to leave for this discussion?  Your medical records are no one’s business but your own.  You have the right to as much privacy as you want.  We can all leave, except Coran, or some of us can stay, for support.  The choice is entirely yours. No one will judge you either way.” 

 

His choice?  Privacy?  The concepts seemed so foreign.  He tried to wrap his head around the idea that he was safe, he was back in the castle, and they would be able to discuss what options, if any -  _ however limited _ , Shiro had said - he had.  There was no fixing him, but perhaps they could find a way for him to regain at least a little of who he’d been.

 

But that would involve a frank discussion of exactly what had been done to him.  The idea of them all knowing it was almost as abhorrent as it had been when Zarkon had threatened to hail them so they could watch him be fucked over the throne.  But that had been before.  There had still been, somewhere deep inside him, a sense of humanity.  Of shame.  It had long since been fucked out of him.

 

Besides, wasn’t it only fair that they knew who was really in their midst?  Didn’t they deserve to know what a monstrosity he’d become?  He shrugged, not sure how to answer Alura.  It wasn’t like he could crack a joke about it.

 

On his right, Shiro nudged a piece of paper and a pen towards him.  For a moment, Lance just stared at it.  How was he supposed to write with his hands tied behind his-

 

Oh.

 

Trying to hide the way he shook, Lance took the pen.

 

_ Stay _ , he wrote.  Keith leaned over to look at the word.

 

“All of us?  Are you sure?” he asked.  Lance nodded.

 

“Alright, then.”  Coran studied the report in front of him, then met Lance’s eyes bravely.  “I’m sorry to say that we can’t undo most of what’s been done to you, Lance.  Your voice-” his own voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat to cover the emotion, trying to sound as collected as possible.  “They didn’t just cut your vocal cords in a way that could be repaired.  They removed your voice box entirely.  Human parts, unfortunately, can’t regrow the way some species can.  For now, the best we can offer is alternative methods of communication.  Writing, of course, maybe even some kind of sign language.  I’ve been looking into finding a way to extend a mind link, so that you could-”

 

Coran stopped when Lance shook his head violently.   _ No one in my mind _ , Lance wrote quickly.  He underlined it twice.  He couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else feeling what he felt, knowing all the intimate, sordid details.  Experiencing the orgasms he’d had on Zarkon’s cock-

 

“Right, then.  No mind link.  But there are other ways you can communicate with us, and we’ll all work on them.  Next are the piercings in your-” he gestured vaguely at Lance’s chest.  Lance folded his arms as if to cover himself, forgetting that he’d been allowed to put on a shirt already.  Coran cleared his throat and went on without ever using the word  _ nipples _ .  “They are one solid piece of jewel, instead of a bar with pieces on the end that attach.  I’ve no idea how they got them in, and we  _ can _ remove them, but we’ll have to break them to do so.  It’ll be a delicate procedure, to make sure no shards of the stone are sent into your skin, but whenever -  _ if _ ever - you want, we can do it.”

 

Lance nodded.  There was a pregnant pause.  Did they expect that he would have jumped up and wanted them taken out immediately?  Should he?  Maybe.  But at the moment, he didn’t even want to think about it.  Didn’t want to analyze why the idea of removing them sent him equal bolts of relief and panic.  Didn’t want to remember how beautiful they’d made him feel, decorated for Zarkon’s pleasure, showed off proudly to his guests, the way his tongue had flicked at them-

 

“The same is true with the other piercings you were given,” Coran went on, ignorant of Lance’s inner turmoil, “but there are… complications there.  They seem to be holding some kind of cage together, which has been implanted beneath your skin.  It seems to be there to… to keep excess blood flow from the area.  I can only imagine how eager you are for it to be removed, but the risks involved…  We would need to cut through the skin, hope that the cage isn’t fused to the tissue itself, try and remove it without damaging any vessels-”  He shook his head.  “We would risk losing even more of you.”

 

Lance had known, hadn’t he?  That what Zarkon did to him was irreversible.  He hadn’t expected Lance to ever have a life outside of the one he created, and wouldn’t have risked Lance finding a way to be repaired.

 

_ Leave it _ , he wrote.  Coran nodded.

 

“Maybe, in the future, we can find medical technology which would allow-” but Lance cut him off with a gesture.  He didn’t want to be given any false hope.  He was resigned to his fate.  “Right.  The- the next bit is the most curious.  Your entire digestive system has been altered.  Your body no longer seems equipped to take in - or expel - food.”

 

Across the table, Hunk gasped.  Lance couldn’t help but smile at that.  Of all the things that had been done to him, depriving him of food was the part that shocked Hunk the most.  For the first time, he felt almost normal.  Realizing what he’d done, Hunk clapped a hand over his mouth and blushed.  Lance laughed silently, feeling a warm glow of affection for his friend.  He’d needed that.

 

“It seems clear to me,” Coran went on, his face growing as red as Hunks, “what the purpose of a few of the additions were intended for, the glands that they gave you for… secretions-” he stumbled to a halt, then shook his head and forged on.  “But I cannot see the reason for altering your digestive tract, nor what you now subsist on.”

 

Lance looked down at the paper in front of him, wondering how to write out the explanation.  Should he write  _ Zarkon’s come _ ?  Something more clinical, like  _ Galra semen _ ?  Finally, he wrote down  _ ejaculate _ , then below it,  _ I have no need to expel waste any longer.  I can only go a fortnight without it before I’ll starve to death. _

 

He handed the paper directly to Coran, who read it with his eyes widened in shock.  “Are you sure?” he asked when he finished.  Lance nodded.  “Do you know… is it species specific?”  Lance shrugged.  He had no idea if it had to be Glara come, or if any similar ejaculate would do the trick.  How closely related were Galra and human DNA?  “We’re going to have to experiment.  Otherwise we have eleven days to find a Galra willing to… provide.”

 

“Provide what?  Maybe there’s enough Galra in my blood to help.”  Lance and Coran both looked at Keith, shocked.  But he didn’t know what he was offering.  He had no idea what Lance needed.

 

“That’s… possible.  But Keith-”

 

“What?” Keith demanded.  “If  _ any _ good can come from what I am, then we should do it.  I want to- I want to help.”  

 

“Lance, I assume that the method in which it is given makes no difference?  Surely something clinical, like a cup, would work?”

 

Lance nodded.  He’d been fed more than once by licking it off sheets, or even off his own thighs.

 

“A cup?  What does he need?  Blood?  Spit?  What?”

 

Coran hesitated, so Lance took his paper back and turned it over.  He wrote  _ come _ on it and pushed it to Keith.  Keith picked it up and read it, then looked at him curiously.  “Come?  Come where?  Everyone’s right here-” he stopped, his eyes widening in horror.  “Oh my  _ god _ .”  Beside him, Shiro cursed viciously.   All around the table were gasps.  Well, there it was.  If there had been any doubt at all what Zarkon had used him for, it was gone now.

 

“Surely there’s another way,” Pidge managed to say.  “Some protein we can synthesize, an artificial alternative-”

 

“Which of course, I’ll be looking into.  But we have too short of a time frame to risk not having all our options available.  Lance could starve while we try making something ourselves.  We need to know if, perhaps, human… emissions… will suffice, and if not, whether Keith possesses enough Galra in him to provide.  If not, our only hopes rest on what we can create, or finding a full blooded Glara willing to help.”  Coran’s assessment was met with silence.  No one could see another option.  “How long until the hunger becomes painful?”

 

Lance took the paper that had dropped from Keith’s hands and wrote,  _ another day or so _ .  Coran repeated it out loud, and Shiro cursed again.  It was Alura who finally managed to speak next.

 

“Keith, are you still willing to try and help?”

 

“I- I… of course, but-”  He looked over at Lance, sadness and anger and reluctance written on his face.  Lance tipped the paper toward him and started to write  _ if you don’t want to- _ but Keith stopped the pen.  “That’s not it,” he insisted.  “I just… it feels… like a violation.  For you.  Like I would be-”

 

_ The hunger is far worse, _ Lance wrote.   _ Trust me. _

 

Abruptly, Shiro stood up.  His chair clattered to the floor behind him.  Without a word, he stormed out of the room.  A moment later, there was a loud bang, then the scream of metal ripping.

 

“If the two of you both consent, then Keith, I’ll leave a specimen container with you.  Hunk, if you have no objections, I’d like to leave one with you, as well.”

 

“Yeah, whatever Lance needs.”  

 

Lance rested his hand briefly on Hunk’s arm as he rose, warmed again by his unquestioning acceptance.  Then, he went after Shiro.

 

***

 

There were two enormous holes in the wall.  The second one held the twisted remains of a steel beam.  Lance had the presence of mind to hope that it hadn’t been load bearing. 

 

He found Shiro a few feet further down the hall, collapsed in an alcove, his head buried in his hands.  His shoulders were shaking, but from rage or grief or disgust, Lance couldn’t tell.  He wondered if Shiro would flinch if Lance touched him.

 

Boldly, he brushed his fingers along Shiro’s shoulder.  Shiro jerked up, but there didn’t appear to be any disgust on his face.  There were tears in his eyes.  He blinked, and one fell down his cheek.  “Lance,” he breathed.  Lance crouched next to him, uncomfortable to be standing over Shiro.  It seemed wrong.  Lance should be the one on his knees-

 

No, it wasn’t like that any more.  Shiro would never demand that Lance kneel before him.  Which is why he was the only man Lance would willingly subject himself to.  He tried to push away the thought.

 

“I’m so…” a sob caught his throat and Shiro reached out, then dropped his hands.  “Sorry.  So, so sorry.  It shouldn’t have been you.  It should have been me.  I should have found you sooner.  I should have-”  Lance quieted Shiro with a finger over his lips.  After a moment, Shiro reached out again.  This time, he didn’t drop his hands, but neither did he move to put them on Lance.  He just held them out, waiting, letting Lance decide.

 

Lance crashed against his chest, wrapping himself around Shiro as much as was humanly possible.  He held on as if his life depended on it, letting the maelstrom of emotions he’d been barely keeping at bay wash over him.  They stayed like that, taking comfort from each other’s embrace, for a long time.

 

Eventually, Lance pushed back so that he could look in Shiro’s eyes.  “Lance-”  He could see the apology there and shook his head, halting Shiro.  He didn’t need Shiro’s regrets.  Never, in all the time he’d spent at Zarkon’s hands, had be blamed Shiro or any of his team for his capture.  There was nothing anyone could have done.  Nor did he think they should have come for him sooner.  Breaking into Zarkon’s fortress had been nigh impossible.  No one knew that better than Lance.  The fact that they’d gotten him out at all was a miracle.  They’d all risked their lives for him.

 

The rest of the team found them huddled together, still holding each other.  Keith’s face twisted for a moment, then fell utterly and he turned away.  The others all looked nothing but understanding.

 

***

 

Lance began pacing the halls when he felt that his room was closing in on him.  It was strange, the space that had felt so much like home when he’d first walked in had suddenly become stifling.  It was filled with memories of a person he wasn’t any longer.  The things in it didn’t belong to him, they belonged to the old Lance.  The unbroken Lance.

 

He was exhausted, physically and mentally.  There was slick pooling between his legs, expecting a cock that wasn’t coming.  Lance should be immeasurably relieved by that.  So why was he filled with nothing but dread?  

 

It had been so long since he’d slept alone.  Almost a year, he’d learned.  Almost a year of spending his nights in Zarkon’s bed, most of the time tied to his cock.  There had been times in the vault, yes, but even that had been a different kind of solitude.  His room was too big, too empty, too cold.  His clothes felt wrong.  He realized he’d been walking with his arms behind his back because it was difficult to keep his balance with them at his sides.  He’d gotten used to moving without them.

 

He felt as if he was going to float away, unanchored to anything real.  He needed- he needed-

 

“Lance?”  Hunk poked his head out of his door, his voice questioning and gentle, a little rough from sleep.  Lance turned, relief washing through him.  Hunk.  Hunk would understand.  Hunk would give him what he needed.  He went right to him, slipping into the room when Hunk stepped away to let him past.

 

“Do you want to sleep here?” he asked when Lance crawled into his bed.  Lance nodded.  “Do you want me to go?”  Lance shook his head, his eyes pleading.  “Alright,” Hunk assured him.  “I’ll stay then.  I’m right here.”  He got onto the bed, drawing the covers up over them both.  After a moment, he gave Lance a crooked little grin and opened his arms in question.  Lance gratefully moved into them.  They shuffled around a little, getting comfortable, Hunk seeming to know exactly what Lance needed.

 

His arms wrapped around Lance’s chest, one of his legs thrown over Lance’s hips, the weight of it keeping him pressed into the mattress.  It should have felt stifling.  It should have repelled him.  Instead, he felt secure.  Comforted.  He drifted off to sleep.

 

***

 

There was a disappointingly small amount of milky fluid in the cups in front of him.  One held almost double as much as the other, but neither one was anywhere near the volume of what Zarkon produced.  Hunger gnawed at Lance’s gut.  He wasn’t even sure either of these would be compatible with his body, let alone if there would be enough to sate him. 

 

He picked up the smaller one, presumably Hunk’s, if the increase in amount was a Galra trait.  Lance had consumed more ejaculate in the last year than he even wanted to think about, but this was different.  Despite the fact that it wasn’t being deposited directly into his stomach or gut, it almost seemed… more intimate.  These were from his  _ friends _ .  They’d pleasured themselves to get it, for him.  Now he was supposed to see if it could feed him.

 

Closing his eyes and ignoring any thoughts of regret or shame, Lance tipped back the first cup.  The salty taste of it didn’t bother him - he’d long ago gotten used to that - but he grimaced at the temperature.  It was stone cold, and slightly congealed because of that.  It felt wrong.

 

He waited a moment, letting it slip down his esophagus and hit his stomach.  For a moment, he thought it was going to do nothing - or worse, he would throw it up like he had when he’d tried to eat food - but then it settled and the sharp edge of hunger dissipated.

 

Relieved, Lance drank down the second cup.  His stomach still wasn’t full, but Keith’s come went further to satiatng him.  Both of them would keep him nourished, but he wondered if, between the three human males on the ship, they could make enough to even remotely fill him.

 

Still, it was enough for now to know that he wouldn’t starve.  He left a note for Coran, telling him the findings, and asking him to pass the information along to Hunk, Keith, and Shiro.

 

***

 

For a while, their system seemed to work.  There was a clinical, impersonal container for Lance in the medical ward every morning.  It was never more than half full, even though there were three men contributing to it, but it was enough to keep Lance going.

 

Coran and Alura kept the castle hidden away in some forgotten corner of the universe, letting Lance have time to recover before they even considered taking on any missions.  Lance was adjusting, slowly.  He remembered to wear clothes.  He remembered that he could sit in a chair.  He remembered that no one could tell him what to do - and everyone was careful never to issue him anything resembling an order.

 

But there were things that he  _ didn’t _ remember, too.  Like that he could move his arms.  He often kept them behind his back, simply because he forgot they were untied.  Or that he was supposed to be able to sleep alone.  He tried, he truly did, to spend his nights in his own room.  But inevitably, he made his way to Hunk’s room and slept there, comfortably pinned beneath his friend’s weight.

 

He found himself staring off at times, idly wondering how it would feel to spend the night with Shiro’s cock in his mouth.  Or what Keith’s come would taste like fresh.  He watched them hungrily, concocting fantasies of the way things could have been if he’d been brave enough to admit his attraction to them before being captured.  Sometimes he had darker fantasies, about them using him the way Zarkon did.  Of Keith stuffing his cock down Lance’s throat while Shiro fucked his ass and filled him up with come.

 

Twice, he emerged from these fantasies to find his cock stiff in the cage, his body crying out for release.

 

Once, in a haze of shame and desperation, he tried fingering himself.  He couldn’t get the right angle, couldn’t hit his prostate the way a cock would, couldn’t bring himself to orgasm.  Not the way Zarkon had.

 

The next night, he cried in Hunk’s arms.  He felt like a raw nerve, exposed and needy.  He was empty, longing to be filled.  It wasn’t the first time he had wanted to be fucked, but it was the first time he needed it so badly that he was willing to risk everything to try.  If anyone could give him this, it was Hunk.  Sweet, caring, gentle Hunk.  Hunk who was the safe choice because Lance had never fantasized about him, had never wanted him the way he wanted Keith or Shiro.  Hunk, who he could bear polite rejection from, if that was to be the answer.

 

In the middle of the night, he slipped out of the bed and took off his clothes before getting back in, surprising Hunk when bare skin pressed against him.

 

“Lance?”  He sounded uncertain, but not repulsed or angry.  Slowly, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked down to where Lance was lying next to him.  Lance took a deep breath, then reached for Hunk’s cock over his shorts.  “Lance-”

 

Lance paused, looking up at Hunk pleadingly.  They’d all gotten so good at reading his expressions, at leading conversations with questions, that he rarely needed the notepad he always kept with him.  He prayed that Hunk could understand him now.  Slowly, he slipped his hand beneath the shorts and palmed Hunk’s cock.  It twitched with interest.

 

“Are you- are you hungry?” Hunk whispered, as if not daring voice the question out loud.  Lance thought for a moment, unsure how to answer.  He was always a little hungry, but he didn’t want Hunk’s come in his mouth.  He needed something else.  Finally he shook his head.  “Lance… you know I’m here for you, for whatever you need, but are you sure you want this?  Want anything like this?  I know it must be confusing-”

 

Lance shook his head and shifted back so that Hunk could see his cock, the way it strained against its confinement.

 

“Oh!”  Hunk looked between the trembling, stunted cock and Lance’s face.  “You need… can you still orgasm?”  Lance nodded.  “By touching it?”  He made as if to reach for it, and Lance recoiled, shaking his head violently.  The idea of anyone, even Hunk, touching his cock made panic swell in his chest.  He hadn’t even touched it himself.  Not once.  “Okay, no hands.”  Hunk held up his hands in a placating gesture.  “Mouth, then?  I’ve never done that before, but if you need-”

 

Lance shook his head again.  He squeezed Hunk’s cock lightly.  It twitched in his palm.  When Hunk didn’t stop him, Lance hitched his leg over Hunk’s hip and undulated against him.  “You… you want sex?”  Lance nodded.  “Do you want me to… be in you?”  He nodded eagerly.  The need was starting to rob him of conscious thought, drive him to desperation.  Slick coated his thighs in anticipation.  “Wouldn’t you rather have Keith or Shiro…?”

 

Whatever look crossed Lance’s face made Hunk cradle Lance softly, stroking him sympathetically.  “Okay, okay.  I’m here for you.  Whatever you want, Lance, it’s yours.  Just guide me.”  

 

Lance struggled not to cry again.  With guilt or relief or gratitude, he wasn’t sure.  Instead, he rolled to his stomach and spread his legs.  Hunk pressed a kiss to his shoulder and obligingly climbed on top of him.  Lance shuddered in pleasure at the first brush of Hunk’s cock against his wet, eager hole.  Hunk felt it and stilled immediately.

 

“Are you okay, Lance?  Do you want me to stop?”  Lance shook his head, but Hunk still seemed unconvinced.  “You know we can stop any time, right?  If you change your mind, or we start and you decide this isn’t what you want, anything at all.”  Lance nodded, lifting his hips, whimpering silently.  Hunk rested his weight on his forearms, then slid one forward until he could twine his fingers over Lance’s.  “If you need me to stop, or you’re uncomfortable, or anything, squeeze twice, okay?  I’ll stop right away and we can figure out what you need.”  Lance nodded again, arching until he felt the tip of Hunk’s short but gloriously thick cock drag through his slick.  “Alright, then, here we go.”  He pressed another gentle kiss to Lance’s shoulder, then slowly eased forward.

 

There was no pain at all as Hunk carefully sank into him.  The slick smoothed the way, and Hunk’s cock wasn’t nearly the monstrosity Zarkon’s had been.  There was just a steady stretch and a welcome, soothing fullness.  Hunk’s thighs were pressed against Lance’s cheeks, bottomed out within him.  Lance shifted his hips, tilting them until he found the right angle-

 

His mouth opened in a silent cry of pleasure and his body bucked, forcing the tip of Hunk’s cock to stroke his prostate again.  Hunk stilled, as if waiting for Lance to squeeze his hand and indicate that they needed to stop, but Lance’s fingers were purposefully lax.  He shifted forward and then impaled himself on Hunk’s cock, sending another streak of pleasure through him.  Hunk moaned when Lance clenched around him, the wet heat intensifying every sensation.  He caught onto Lance’s movements and copied them, thrusting forward at just the right angle to drive him towards release.

 

It was a slow build, his orgasm welling inside of him one stroke at a time rather than being ripped from him the way it was when he came on Zarkon’s cock.  Hunk strained over him, thrusting slow and deep, giving to Lance rather than taking from him.  The sensation finally overflowed, reaching a heart stopping peak as Lance spurted weakly onto the sheets.  Relief flooded him and he went boneless beneath Hunk.

 

“Lance,” Hunk whispered urgently, his lips close to Lance’s ear.  “Do you want me to-” he broke off, shuddering.  “I need to stop now if I shouldn’t co-”  A low groan escaped him as Lance pressed back once more.  Maybe Hunk would argue that this was just about Lance, but why deny Hunk his pleasure, and why waste a meal?

 

Two more strokes and Hunk came, pushing his release deep into Lance’s body.  It was nothing like when Zarkon came inside of him.  It was better.  He wasn’t stretched beyond his limits, pumped full of his enemy’s seed, forced to subsist on it.  He was with his friend, sharing pleasure, taking care of each other.

 

Hunk disentangled their bodies carefully, checking to make sure Lance wasn’t injured in any way before wrapping his arms around him.

 

“Was that alright?” he asked.  Lance nodded, rubbing his face against Hunk’s chest.  It was exactly what he’d needed.  If only he felt the same spark, the same heat, he felt when he looked at Hunk as he did when he looked at Keith or Shiro.  He was comfortable with Hunk, secure.  It could be so easy.

 

“You should consider talking to Keith and Shiro,” Hunk murmured, as if reading his mind.  Lance flinched.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Hunk assured him.  “And I’m here for you any time you need me, for however long you want.  But I know how you feel about them.  How you’ve always felt about them.  They’re who you really want.”

 

Lance reached up and stroked Hunk’s face, feeling guilt well up inside him.  He was using Hunk, taking advantage of his generosity, being cruel-

 

“Don’t look like that,” Hunk begged.  “I’m happy to be here for you, Lance.  This was… it was incredible.  But I want  _ you _ to be happy.  You  _ deserve _ to be happy.  And maybe, if you’re honest with them about how you feel, about what you want… they might want the same thing too.”

 

Lance flashed him a weak smile before settling against him and closing his eyes.  It made his heart clench to have the possibility dangled in front of him.  That he might have everything he’d ever wanted, even though he was damaged beyond repair.  It would be so much worse when it would inevitably turn out to be nothing but an empty dream.

 

But… he’d never know unless he tried.

 

***

 

Lance waited until everyone had left the training room the following day before approaching Shiro.  He was still toweling sweat from the back of his neck, his shirt clinging to his broad chest in a way that made Lance’s mouth go dry.  Lance almost lost his courage.  He almost turned away.  But then he thought of all the times he’d wanted to say something to Shiro before the capture, and everything he’d missed out on because he hadn’t.

 

He caught Shiro’s attention and gestured over to the table.  Looking concerned, Shiro followed.  “Everything alright?” he asked, his tone gentle and protective, the way it always was when he spoke to Lance.

 

Lance nodded, then took a deep breath, and began to write.

 

_ I slept with Hunk last night _ .

 

He slanted the paper so that Shiro could read it.  There was a pause, and then, “I know you’ve been having trouble sleeping.  If it helps to have someone else there-”  Lance shook his head and wrote again.

 

_ It does, but that’s not what I meant.  I had sex with him last night. _

 

There was another pause, this one far more tense.  When Shiro spoke again, his voice was strangled.  “Did- did you  _ want _ to have sex with him?”

 

Lance looked at Shiro incredulously.  As if Hunk would force him.  Shiro understood the look without Lance having to explain.  He let out a shaky breath and ran his hand roughly through his hair.  “Okay, I know.  I didn’t think- but you’ve been through a lot, and you might be confused about what you want.”

 

_ I’m not confused. _

 

“I don’t mean that offensively,” Shiro corrected, as if mortified by the thought that he might have hurt Lance’s feelings.  “I just meant-” he broke off, shaking his head.  “I don’t know what I meant.  I… I’m glad for you, if this is what you want.  I know the two of you have always been close, and you deserve to be happy-”

 

_ Shut up _ , Lance wrote.  Shiro fell silent.   _ I had sex with him because it was simple.  Comfortable.  I have- _ Lance paused, not sure quite how to express himself.  Fuck, this was even harder to do on paper than it would have been out loud.   _ Needs _ , he finally added.  Shiro glanced up at him.

 

“Like- like eating?”

 

Lance shook his head.   _ That’s not what I mean.  Other needs.  Physical ones.  Like any other guy, I guess, except not at all like other guys because it’s been all fucked up and twisted and ruined- _ He stopped, not meaning to have said so much.  Shiro looked so heartbroken that Lance took his hand.  With his free one, he continued writing.   _ I can’t get off on my own any more.  I need- _  Lance stopped short of writing ‘cock’ because it sounded crude, even in his head.   _ Help _ , he substituted.

 

“And Hunk helped?”

 

_ He did.  And then he encouraged me to come talk to you.  And Keith. _

 

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.  But you don’t have to tell me  _ or _ Keith your private-”

 

_ Will you let me finish? _  Shiro stopped talking and nodded.   _ He said I should talk to you because while Hunk was generous enough to give me what I needed, he’s not what, or rather who, I really want.  He knew that, apparently even before I did. _

 

“Lance… are you saying…” Shiro swallowed, then shook his head.  “You like Keith, you mean?”

 

Lance snorted.  Always so self sacrificing, so noble.  Always putting others first.   _ I do like Keith.  But I like you, too.  I always have. _

 

Shiro looked stunned.

 

_ I don’t want you to do anything out of a sense of obligation, or pity, or anything like that.  I know what I want is unconventional.  If you’re not interested, or you can’t have the kind of relationship I’m asking for, that’s fine.  I won’t pressure you and I won’t think any less of you.  Just be honest with me. _

 

“I… I-”  Shiro blinked slowly, as if making sure he wasn’t dreaming.  “Just to clarify, so I’m not misunderstanding anything, you’re saying you’re… attracted to me?  You want to have a… a sexual relationship with me?”  Lance nodded.  “And you feel the same way about Keith.”  Another nod.  “Do you want us each part time?  Or together?”

 

_ Together.  But I will take whatever you are willing to give me.  I know you and Keith are close, and I don’t want to do anything to harm your relationship.  If you can’t _ \-  Shiro put his hand over Lance’s to still it.

 

“I’m not saying no,” he whispered.  Lance’s heart, which had already been pounding, began to race.  “Keith and I… we have a complicated history.  I’ve never mentioned it because I didn’t want betray his trust, but back on Earth, before the Kerberos mission, Keith… he wanted something more.  But I was about to leave, and he was so young… I turned him down, despite how much I cared about him.”  

 

Lance felt queasy.  He’d known they were close, but to hear that they’d wanted each other, that they’d been denied the chance at a relationship, made Lance’s request seem cruel.  Or maybe Shiro was trying to tell him that they’d already gotten together, and there wasn’t room for a third between them-

 

“When I saw him again, everything was different.  There wasn’t even time to discuss the issue.  Besides, I felt that, as the leader of Voltron, it would be inappropriate for me to have any kind of sexual relationship with another paladin.  Like I was taking advantage.  So when I noticed the way he looked at you-”  Shiro looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I tried to just be happy for you both and forget the rest.”

 

Lance scrambled for his pen.   _ Me?  The way he looked at  _ _ me _ _?  Shiro, you’ve always been the one special to him.  I was just his rival, someone in the way as he was watching  _ _ you _ _. _

 

“I know him, Lance.  There wasn’t any doubt what he wanted.  What I’m sure he still wants.”

 

_ What about what you want?  If you’ve wanted him all this time, I’d just be in the way- _

 

“What I feel for him isn’t the same as what I feel for you, Lance, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less important, any less real.   A parent would love their kids equally but still have a special relationship with each of them which I realized as soon as I said it is the creepiest and most fucked up analogy I could have used-” his face had turned crimson, “but the point I’m trying to make, in the clumsiest and most twisted way possible, is that I  _ do _ want you, Lance.  It doesn’t diminish what I feel for Keith, and what I feel for him doesn’t cheapen how much I care for you.

 

“I had convinced myself, foolishly, arrogantly, that the right thing to do was to step back, to deny that I felt anything at all.  But that wasn’t fair to any of us.  You deserve better from me.  And so does Keith.  So if you’re sure this is what you want, if you’re certain that you’re ready, then I won’t try to hide it any more.  I’ll be here for you, for whatever you need.  And if that includes Keith… well then I’m just the luckiest bastard in the universe to be handed everything I’ve ever wanted.”

 

Lance didn’t waste another moment.  He wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and kissed him, hard and deep.  He kissed him like he should have, before his whole world went to hell, before he’d been nearly destroyed.  It was sharp and sweet, tinged with a kind of desperation that only comes from finally grasping something you thought you’d never have.

 

Shiro pulled away, a little breathless.  “There’s so much more we need to talk about.  You’re so strong, Lance.  You’re the strongest man I know, but we can’t ignore what’s happened to you.  I can’t take the risk of accidentally hurting you, of doing or saying something that would bring any of it back, would scare you-”

 

Lance nodded, knowing that he was right.  The road that he was starting down was full of pitfalls, riddled with traps that could easily break this fragile thing he was trying to build.  The only way to navigate it safely was to be totally honest with Shiro.  And with Keith.  And with himself.

 

***

 

Keith handled the reveal of their feelings, and the subsequent suggestion of a polyamorous relationship, about as well as Lance expected.

 

He tackled Shiro to the ground, glared murderously at Lance, and refused to speak to either of them for two days.

 

After dinner on the third day, he took each of them by the hand, told them they were idiots, and then kissed them.  Lance was happy to watch Keith and Shiro finally come to terms with the attraction and feelings they’d had for each other for years.  Then they both turned to him, and the conversation got immeasurably harder.

 

Lance wasn’t over what had happened to him.  He didn’t think he would ever be, not completely.  But he wasn’t going to let Zarkon rule even one more second of his life.  And wouldn’t it be the biggest ‘fuck you’ to that bastard to take every horrific thing he did to Lance and use them for pleasure with the people he loved?

 

Shiro and Keith were happy to take things slowly, not to rush the physical side of their new relationship, but Lance didn’t want to wait.  He’d already waited too long.

 

After a brief debate, they went to Shiro’s room.  His bed was biggest, and they were going to need every inch they could get.  As soon as the door closed behind them, Lance took off his clothes.  For several long, tense moments, they just stared at him, taking in every bit of skin, every alteration that had been made to him.  Lance tried to be unabashed, unashamed.  After all, even now, without Zarkon’s toxic words whispered in his ear, Lance could understand that there was a certain kind of beauty in what had been done to him. 

 

Shiro stepped forward, his human hand trembling.  “Show me,” he whispered.  “Show me what I can do.  Show me what you want.”  In an instant, Keith was at his side as well, one hand staking reverently along Lance’s skin.  He leaned into the touch, tipping his head back and pulling Shiro close for a kiss.  When Keith’s hand wandered down to his cock, Lance even allowed the contact for a moment, shivering with illicit pleasure, before moving his hand away.

 

They stumbled onto the bed, falling in a pile of tangled limbs.  Keith scrambled up to the headboard and pulled Lance’s back against his chest, letting Shiro crawl between their spread legs.  Shiro tried to stop at Lance’s hips, obviously intending to take Lance’s straining cock into his mouth, but Lance pulled him up.  Maybe, maybe someday he would be able to face that.  Already, he could imagine Keith’s mouth on his cock while Shiro fucked him from behind.  The very idea made him moan silently.  But not today.  Not yet.

 

He urged Shiro up his body until he was pressed against Lance shoulder to hip.  Shiro kissed them both in turn, threading his fingers into Keith’s hair while trailing his lips down Lance’s neck.  He didn’t bring his cock any closer to Lance’s body until Lance wrapped his legs around Shiro’s hips and pulled him in.  

 

“Wait,” Shiro managed to say against Lance’s skin.  “I need to get you ready for me.”  Lance shook his head and tried to urge Shiro forward, but he wouldn’t budge.  “I’m not small, Lance.  I don’t want to hurt you.  I  _ can’t _ hurt you.”  Lance looked down at where Shiro’s cock was curved magnificently up towards his belly.  He  _ was _ big, but still smaller than Zarkon.  Lance could take him.  He grabbed Shiro’s face in his hands and forced him to look Lance in the eyes.  Then, deliberately, he used his heels to drive Shiro forward.  The head of his cock popped inside, and there was nothing but pleasure on Lance’s face.  Emboldened, Shiro pressed deeper.  He brushed Lance’s swollen prostate and wanted to shout with pride when Lance shuddered in bliss.

 

From there, instinct took over.  Shiro’s body was all lithe grace and bridled power.  He worshipped Lance with it, plunging into him relentlessly, wringing silent cries of pleasure from him.  It was unlike anything Lance had ever experienced.  It was not the brutal ravaging that Zarkon had done to him, though Shiro was nearly his rival in strength, nor was it the tender, careful sex Hunk had shared with him.  It was passionate and uninhibited.  Shiro didn’t try to stifle his moans of pleasure, he held nothing back.  Everything that he was, he gave to Lance.  It was beautiful.

 

Lance came harder than he ever had before, the thin streams from his aching cock striping up the length of his chest.  In another moment, Shiro followed him, flanks billowing like a stallion as he emptied himself into Lance.  They laid like that for a long while, until Shiro’s cock softened and slipped from Lance’s body.  He could feel come start to trickle out of him and wanted nothing more than to keep it in.  The hard cock he felt against his back would do the trick.

 

As soon as Shiro rolled off of him, Lance shifted down the bed and pulled Keith beneath him.  In one smooth move, he hitched himself over Keith’s hips and sank down onto his cock.  Lance’s eyes drifted shut as he began to ride Keith, but he snapped them open so that he would not miss a single moment of this.  Of the way Keith’s face displayed open adoration and lust, or the way Shiro’s eyes followed his every movement.  He wanted to burn these moments into his mind, sear them there like a brand so that this was all he could remember.  Being filled and taken and used, but by Keith and Shiro, by the ones he loved, by the ones that loved him.  He wanted to never experience anything but this, ever again.

 

Shiro had moved up until he was reclined against the headboard, and Lance draped himself over Keith’s body, spreading his knees wide so that Keith could thrust up into him.  It put him close enough to Shiro’s lap that he could lay his head in it and suckle Shiro’s glistening cock.  It tasted salty and sweet, familiar and yet utterly foreign.  Lance hummed in pleasure when it responded to his ministrations and began to lengthen again.

 

Beneath him, Keith came with a quiet groan.  Lance waited until every drop of his orgasm had been wrung from him, then sat back on his heels.  He looked from Shiro’s now semi-hard cock, to Keith’s splayed legs.  He made a gesture like the two of them pressing together, then cocked his head.  Shiro looked over at Keith.  Keith looked up at him, the tips of his ears reddening.

 

“Do you want that?” Shiro asked after a beat.  Keith tried - and failed - to look as though he didn’t care.

 

“I’d let you fuck me,” he replied too casually.  Shiro growled.  He pinned Keith with his stare, then pinned him with his metal arm.  Keith’s spent cock twitched.

 

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Shiro whispered fiercely.  He watched Keith’s pupils bloom with lust.  “I asked if you  _ want _ me.”

 

“Yes,” Keith breathed, dropping any pretense and submitting fully.  “Yes, please.”

 

Shiro glanced back.  “Lance?”  Lance nodded eagerly and stretched out beside Keith.  Then he watched as Shiro slowly, carefully, prepared Keith the way his body required.  By the time he finally slid into Keith, all three of them were panting with desire.  When he couldn’t take it any more, he crawled between them, sinking down onto Keith’s cock and beginning to ride him while Shiro held them both up.  Lance felt drunk on pleasure.  He felt debauched, powerful, totally in control and yet wild with abandon.

  
  


Keith came in him again and Lance reveled in it.  When he felt Shiro begin to strain, he flipped around and held his mouth open, his intent clear.  Shiro pulled out and came on his tongue.  Lance swallowed it down.  For the first time since being rescued, he felt full.  Satisfied.  Totally and completely at peace.

 

He fell asleep pinned between the two of them, thinking that he finally had a future he could look forward to.

 

***

 

The other occupants of the castle took the news of the relationship between the three of them with surprising aplomb.  Hunk gave them a bear hug.  Pidge just shrugged and smiled.  Alura muttered,  _ about damn time _ , and Coran gave them a puzzled look, asking,  _ haven’t you always been? _

 

Despite how difficult it should have been, things only got easier.  Lance knew he was going about his healing process backwards, getting into a healthy - if unconventional - relationship and  _ then _ working on repairing the emotional damage that had been done to him, but nothing about their situation was ordinary.  It only stood to reason that they would handle it in out of the ordinary ways.

 

Sometimes they invited Hunk to bed with them, being equally gracious if he accepted or declined, and having him stay the night in their overloaded bed when he did join.

 

Eventually, Lance stopped panicking when his cock was stimulated, and he learned to enjoy the sensation of Keith or Shiro sucking on it, lapping at the head and then flicking little licks along the barbells.  He couldn’t come from that alone, but the orgasms he had with one of them sucking him and the other one fucking him were the most powerful he’d ever experienced.

 

He talked them both into fucking him at the same time, despite Shiro’s initially strong opposition.  But slowly, he and Keith came to know every inch of Lance’s body.  They learned what it was capable of, and what its limits were.  He could take them.  It was the closest the three of them could physically be.  They didn’t do it often, but each time was nearly a religious experience.

 

Lance reclaimed every bit of himself that had been stolen and abused.  Every day he grew stronger.  Sometimes, when they were training or after Lance had shared a particularly painful memory from his time in captivity, they argued about who would be the one to kill Zarkon.  Keith and Shiro both claimed that they would have the honor.  Lance always ended the conversation by claiming that he’d  _ earned _ the right.  But still, he could see the desire for revenge lurking in their eyes.

 

***

 

The first time Lance stepped into the blue lion, something extraordinary happened.  He ran his hands over the buttons and controls, and thought,  _ I don’t know if I can do this _ .  Except, it didn’t just come out in his head.  He heard it through the lion, out loud, in his own voice.  The lion was linked to him, and it voiced his thoughts for him.  With a little trial and error, he could express specific thoughts as easily as choosing to say them.  Elated, he opened the coms to the other lions and shared his news.

 

Less than a week later, Coran and Pidge had found a way to link the lions coms to the castle intercoms.  As long as the blue lion was in the castle, his bond with it was strong enough that he could get his thoughts to play through the intercom of whatever room he was in.

 

It wasn’t a perfect system (occasionally when he was close to a wall, his voice went onto the com in the next room, a problem which caused an exceptionally good natured but still mortified Pidge to move out of the room next to Shiro’s the morning after a particularly enthusiastic bout of sex against the wall) but it worked.  It was better than anything Lance had ever dared hope for.  He had everything he could possibly want.

 

And then it was time to save the universe again.  There was an evil sadist out there who needed to be stopped, and Lance had it on good authority that there was a line of people eager to kill him.

 

***

 

Lance had been afraid, though he’d refused to admit it, that when he stepped back onto Zarkon’s ship, he would revert back to who he’d been during his captivity.  A pliant, mindless doll.  Desperate for any mercy that could be granted him, shameless in his desire to please, unresisting of any horror visited upon him.

 

Instead, the opposite happened.  He felt omnipotent.  Like a god, breathed to life by vengeance.  He’d bested Zarkon.  He’d been totally at his whims and had overcome him.  He was unbreakable.

 

He slipped away during the fighting, making his way unerringly to the throne room.  He wondered what Zarkon would say upon seeing him.  Would he fling insults at Lance, try to make him crumble in shame?  Would he order Lance to his knees, expecting he would fold to Zarkon’s will like he had before?  Would there maybe be a thread of true fear in his eyes, of the man who’d come back for his revenge?

 

He’d never know what might have happened.  He strode into the throne room and skidded to a halt.  Keith and Shiro, who’d been trying desperately to get to him as soon as he’d disappeared, burst in behind him.  All three of them could only stare as Coran stepped away from Zarkon’s lifeless body, cleaned blood off his dagger, and slipped it calmly back into his boot.  He looked at their astonished faces and shrugged.

 

“He murdered my best friend and put his filthy hands on one of my cubs,” he said by way of explanation.  All three of them were so stunned that he had to remind them there was still a battle going on.

 

***

 

Even with Zarkon vanquished, Voltron’s work wasn’t finished.  Their jobs as peacekeepers of the universe continued in the wake of his demise.  The war-torn mess he’d left behind needed tending, and the team was more than willing to take on the task.  Occasionally, they ran into leaders who recognized Lance from his days as Zarkon’s pet (Shiro half strangled one that thought he was Lance’s new owner and asked for another night with him) but otherwise, there were few reminders of that dark and terrible year.

 

Each night, as he dropped into bed with the men that he loved, Lance was reminded of just how far he’d come, and how lucky he was.  And when they finally fell into sated, blissful sleep, he found himself grateful that he’d gone through hell so that he could come out the other side into paradise.


End file.
